


seduction

by brainyisalwayssexy



Category: Bollywood RPF, Khoobsurat
Genre: F/M, Old Upload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainyisalwayssexy/pseuds/brainyisalwayssexy
Relationships: Milli/Vikram, Mrinalini Chakravarty/Vikram Singh Rathore
Kudos: 22





	seduction

After what has felt like ages of not seeing Vikram at all, Milli can’t take it any longer.

She’s worked up her courage and finally decided – she’s going to seduce him,_ tonight_.

Yes, they _were_ engaged now, but they’d hardly seen in each in the weeks that had passed since Vikku’s proposal. Vikram , for his part, had been stuck in seemingly endless cycle of business meetings. He really did have a lot of work to do, she’d come to realize, and taking over the palace affairs had meant an astonishing new influx of work. She’d been busy too, treating the Rajah day in and day out , but she’d also been taking select trips with the IPL teams whenever she could. The teams were at the height of their pre-season training, and when they’d asked her to come back, how could she refuse? Physiotherapy was what she had chosen and frankly loved to do, and nothing would change that. Still, the insane schedule of flying out to treat the teams, sometimes meeting a few old patients in Delhi, and _then_ coming back to treat the Rajah had taken its toll on her, and she was hardly ever back in the palace the same time Vikram was.

And the few times the both of them _were_ together and neither was exhausted out of their minds, the Rajah and Rani were _always_ around the palace. The Rani in particular was always on the prowl, eager to save her son’s virtue from what she’d come to assume was the lecherous doctor’s lust. (Because _Vikram_ was the innocent one. _Riiiiight_.) She’d accepted Milli, yes, but she was still a royal and a highly conservative one at that, which immediately meant that kissing, cuddling, excessive hand holding, and basically any activity save for a respectful glance from a minimum three-foot distance, was strictly forbidden for the two.

So, aside for a few short, well-timed visits to the private palace gardens or a broom closet, and one particular incident on the balcony a few weeks ago when they’d both been just a little more than drunk ( and nearly gotten caught by Rani ma'am herself), physical contact between the two had been minimal at best. Any situations where things had gotten a bit out of hand they’d nevertheless managed to keep under control, citing the circumstances as being way too risky. (Which of course they _were_.)

Why didn’t they just leave the palace for a “business trip”?

Two reasons:

1) The Rani was watching her son like a hawk and was well-acquainted with his affairs, and

2) At any rate, the idea of doing it in Rajah Suraj Mansingh’s_ Royal Palace Suite_ – which would be incredibly disrespectful to their host, and wasn’t exactly full of good memories in the first place anyway– turned them both off.

But now, at last, nearly a month since they’d seen each other last, both of them had gotten a short reprieve from work for a while, and for the next few days, the Rajah and Rani would be out of the palace. Neither of them had said so, but it had passed unsaid that they would be taking their intimacy to the next step. At some point.

So now, she was here in his room, waiting for him in what she hoped was a sexy enough get-up for the occasion, and trying desperately not to have a panic attack.

Saying she was nervous was a bit of an understatement. It was not her first time doing it, but she didn’t want to think about that. Her first time was gross and disappointing and overall a really horrible,impulsive choice. Not that this was going to be a bad choice– it was _Vikram_, how could it be – but then again, she was so flustered and nervous, that it might just end up that way.

Could she really seduce him? Was he going to expect something big?

She swallowed hastily. Oh God. She was way worse at this than she thought.

Was this supposed to be so hard?

A thought strikes her. Was he expecting _anything_ at all? Was she forcing this on him? What if he was too tired or something? What if he didn’t want to…_you know_…?

Nonsense, she reassures herself. She looks hot. Vikram won’t know what hit him.

She checks her reflection in the dresser mirror across the room, just in case.

For the evening’s getup, she’d decided on wearing one of Vikram’s collared shirts, a simple light blue one that he (surprisingly) hadn’t ironed or hung up. It’s a little big on her, granted, but not as large as one would expect, and it flares just over her ass, leaving the long expanse of her legs uncovered. She’d initially thought about putting on a corset or something more traditionally “sexy” on instead, but she’d decided against it. She didn’t want to get trapped inside a weird outfit (now _that_ would kill the mood quickly). Plus, she’d read somewhere that wearing a guy’s shirt would drive him crazy, and although she doesn’t entirely follow that logic, in the dim light, there’s something about the oversized shirt that just _looks_ good. Playful, sweet, _sexy_, even. She hopes he agrees.

Next on the check-up list–lingerie. She flashes a quick peek inside the shirt to check her bra. It looks alright– just a very simple, black lacy piece. A classic. She’d figured magenta polka dots or a happy snowflake pattern would be a bit inappropriate for the occasion. But maybe next time.

And now, the piece she’s most excited about – the lace stockings. They’re simple and black and match everything else, but they’re so elegant and classy and so not _her_ that she’s surprised by how much she likes them (and the fact that she didn't rip them). Not to mention how great her legs look. And the bows at the very top? SO cute.

She’s just inordinately pleased by them, basically. People should just wear them all the time.

She checks her legs out in the mirror one last time before she finally turns away and takes a deep breath. OK. That’s out of the way. Next task–sit or stand?

Frustration suddenly seizes her. Uff. She texted him two minutes ago! Where was he?!?

This is stupid, she thinks. Hurry up, Vikram.

The light nervousness flutters in her stomach. _Again_. Oh god.

She swallows.

Hurry up, she thinks, before I completely lose my nerve.

—————————————————————————————————————————-

It had been an _exceptionally_ long day for Vikram.

His parents had left the house for the first time in what had been years, really, and yet he was still bogged down with work. Still, he’d finally managed to finish all of it, and was now looking forward to actually seeing his fiancee in person– basically, through something other than text or instant messaging or Skype or Facetime.

Speaking of which, she HAD just texted him, asking him to “find” her. A bit cryptic, but OK. He doesn’t bother asking for clarification. He’s come to learn that it’s best to just roll with things at this point.

He walks down the hall to his room, loosens the tie around his neck and begins to unbutton his shirt. He’ll just freshen up a bit and then go find her, he figures.

He pushes open the door to his bedroom…

Found her.

She turns around from where she’s been standing, and suddenly his eyes widen and his jaw slackens because _damn_, he had not expected her to look like _that_.

Oh. So _that’s_ what she’s been up to.

He stands there, suddenly rooted to the spot, suddenly unable to breathe, and just takes a moment to take her in.

There’s something unbearably sexy about the fact that she’s wearing his shirt, and the sight makes something incredibly possessive rise up inside him. _His shirt_. On her. Now that’s something he’d never tire of seeing. Through one of the opened buttons she missed (which is really almost all of them), he can get a teasing glimpse of the tight, lacy black bra she’s wearing, of the way it strains and bends over her chest. He’s already itching to free her from it.

And of course, there’s her legs. Long, smooth, and covered by smoky black lace stockings that end halfway up her thighs. The stockings look absolutely stunning on her, and yet, a small , more feral part of his brain tells him her legs would look even better completely bare.

He feels his blood rush, involuntarily. God damn it. It’s _always_ her legs.

He drags his eyes back up to her face and finds himself stunned again. Her makeup is minimal, but then again, she has never really needed it. The warm, dim light works wonders for her seductive appeal– in fact, the only thing that breaks the dusty look is her thin clear lipgloss, which she never parts with anyway. He, for one, is not going to complain about that. For all her evident nervousness, she just looks so beautiful, and he finds himself again in awe of the fact that she’s standing there just for _him_.

And then, she bites her lower lip. It’s a nervous habit of hers, one he’s seen a thousand times before, but one that has never seemed so painfully attractive until this moment.

The desire in his chest growls. He needs to taste her, _now_.

She notices the sudden hunger of his gaze, and her eyes brighten before she ducks her head , blushing uncharacteristically. “I don’t really know if I did this right…” she admits sheepishly, but then he strides over and closes the distance between them , cutting off her rambling with a kiss that’s deep and hot and urgent as he holds her tight in his arms, just the way she likes. She shudders beneath him and then throws her arms around his neck, kissing him back with an intensity that rivals his own.

He’s losing control of his mind far too quickly now, as he seemingly always does around her. His hands are everywhere, as are hers, but every touch feels like an unsatisfying tease, a little taste that is never quite enough. The fact that he can feel the heat of her body, moving, _pressing_, right up against his, doesn’t help the situation at all. Unable to bear it any longer, he finally lets a groan rip from his throat as he runs his hands up her legs, cups her hips, and lifts her clear off the ground to carry her half a dozen steps to his dresser top. She gasps against his lips as her back hits the dresser mirror, and she quickly covers his lips again, lets her fingers fist painfully up into his hair, pulling him closer still.

He pulls away at last, breathing heavily, and she’s just barely managed to get a few hasty breaths in before he again sets himself to ravishing her lips. This time, he changes the angle of the kiss and kisses her over and over, each kiss more furious and desperate than the last. As he does, he struggles to unbutton the first few buttons on her shirt.

Frustrated by the pitiful progress he’s made with the buttons, he breaks away just long enough to growl out two words –“Off. _Now_.”

She pulls the shirt unceremoniously over her head, and he tosses it aside roughly before pulling her close again.

“It’s going to get wrinkled.” she blurts out offhandedly. _Shit._ Where did that even come from?

He draws closer to her face, still unfazed.

“You planning on wearing it again?” His voice is suddenly low in her ear, making her tremble.

Right. Of course not.

She takes in a shallow breath and steadies herself. Then, she grabs him roughly by the collar of his shirt and pulls him close so their lips crash together again. He gives her lower lip a sudden, gentle bite and draws a soft, breathy gasp from her. She rewards him and grabs at his face, tracing the tension of his jaw even as he deepens their kiss and makes her shudder.

He moves his hands suddenly ,and Milli finds herself caught unawares yet again as she revels in the sensation of his rough, flat palms slowly traveling up her stomach, dragging up over her ribcage, then up further still. She pulls at him and silently urges him on, until at last she feels him drag his hands over her shoulder blades and over the straps of her bra, before he unhooks the damn thing and swiftly takes it off.

He breaks away from her lips and begins to rain kisses down her neck and down her shoulder, before he catches her completely off-guard and buries his head in her chest. She gasps a little too loudly as he kisses her breasts, and he looks up at her with a look that tells her he’s discovered something absolutely _wicked_. It’s written all over his face, just an ever-so-slight, knowing smirk and a cock of the eyebrows that is simultaneously so damn _sexy_ and so damn _annoying_ that she would’ve slapped it off his face if she didn't need him so badly.

He drops his head again to work on them, and she cries out softly as he focuses all his ministrations on her weaknesses. She feels his hands graze her breast, feels his lips and his tongue trace out swirling new patterns, and she gasps aloud in spite of herself because she’s locked onto every single sensation. He leaves harsh little kisses and bites as he goes, and she arches into him, throws her head back and unsuccessfully attempts to keep her breath from turning ragged. She drops her hands from her sides and lets them tangle in his hair as she desperately tries to ground herself while floating in euphoria. When he finally stops, she’s nearly shaking.

With difficulty, she finally manages to catch her breath and come back to her senses. Oh, he’s _good_, for sure. Not one to be outdone, she redoubles her own efforts.She drags his face up to hers and rests his forehead on hers while she first whips off his tie. That done, she furiously struggles with the buttons on his shirt. She wants it off, _now_. He takes the hint and pulls back just long enough to peel the shirt off over his head. She jumps at the opportunity, running her hands up and down his abs and chest, awakening nerves he hadn’t known were asleep. He stiffens visibly, his breath catching, and she cheers silently. Score one for Milli.

She grips him by the shoulders and examines him with equal parts wonderment and frustration.

Ugh. Who let him be so damn hot?

She starts at his collarbone and works her way down, peppering what _start_ as innocent enough kisses, down the length of his chest. She silently delights in the effect she has on him, in how he gasps harshly when she leaves hot, breathy kisses that linger a little too long on his solar plexus, in how he swallows visibly when she travels down and presses a soft kiss on his lower abs.

Practically breathless, he pulls her up and moves to capture her lips, but she turns her head and keeps herself just out of reach. She’s not done with teasing him yet. (Sorry, Vikku.) Moving in, she presses soft, lingering kisses along the strong line of his jaw, letting her hands make feathery light motions on his back and chest. She keeps her movements, slow, gentle, agonizing.

At last, she stops at the very edge of his mouth, a mere breath away from his lips. She suddenly pulls back and looks at him ever-so-innocently through her lashes, as if she’s suddenly forgotten what to do next. It’s a horrible tease, and she knows damn well what she’s doing to him. Still, she kind of enjoys watching him fall apart like this for her. It’s flattering.

Well, two can play that game, Vikram thinks, even though his ragged breathing and wild pulse all say otherwise. He turns away from her for not even a fraction of a second before she’s onto him. With three quick flicks, she undoes his belt clasp and pulls him back to her, their faces just a breath away.

She quickly locks her legs behind his back and pulls him close, at which he groans and pushes up against her. She slowly rocks her hips, again, then again, reveling in the way she sees his face scrunch up, his breathing turn heavy, and his eyes squeeze closed as he growls in frustration and tries to contain himself.

At last, he gives up. Unable to hold back anymore, Vikram swears and knots a hand in her hair before pulling her in for a rough, hard kiss, and just like that, the teasing is over. It’s no longer a game for either of them, it’s just raw desperation, and then there’s nothing but open mouth kisses and hot breath and passionate groping, as he runs a hand down her thigh and winds her around him tighter, as she rocks into him and squeezes him between her legs , as she moans against his lips when he grinds into her and presses her into the dresser mirror, his hands at her bare back, her body flush against his. Their movements are desperate and needy and uninhibited as they furiously try to satisfy the hunger that suddenly seems to have engulfed both of them. Each touch seems to satisfy and yet further dissatisfy, leaving them gasping for more.

The heat between them intensifies like a spark to a flame. He takes her hips at last and guides her into a steady swirling rhythm , tasting her neck while she leaves harsh, desperate scratches down his back and shoulders. She’s so close – _so close!_ – and yet, it’s not enough. It won’t be until he gets rid of that final pesky barrier of clothing, and she feels like if he doesn’t take her _right now_ she might scream.

As if he’s heard her thoughts somehow, he suddenly stops. She lets her breathing return to normal before she opens her eyes to look up at him from under her lashes.

His expression is hungry and possessive, and it makes her heart thud wildly. She can see the dark lust in her eyes reflected in his, the way his swollen lower lip matches her own, the fine sheen of sweat they’ve both worked up.

What they both want passes through a single gaze – unsaid, unheard .

At last, he carries her to his bed and gently lays her down in the sheets. Wordlessly, he strips off her stockings and the last of her lingerie, while she rids him of the last of what he’s wearing, too. He trails soft kisses up the insides of her now-bare thighs before coming up to meet her face.

They lock eyes , and that’s they realize – this is it. This is the moment. The realization that it’s _happening_ seems to evoke a range of emotions – love, excitement,fear.

Mili steadies her breathing and involuntarily bites her lower lip and that’s when Vikram sees that even with her lying on her back beneath him, even with her crazy wild passionate side, underneath it all, she’s still nervous. And he gets it.

He leans down to gives her one last tender, comforting kiss. “Just relax. And tell me if anything is wrong.” he whispers soothingly. She meets his gaze and cradles his face for a moment before she nods quietly.

With a steadying hand on her hip, he presses into her as carefully as he can. He feels her tighten around him, and he grits his teeth and rests his forehead on hers to ground himself, while he fights to retain some semblance of human thought as his mind slips into a more primal state. He focuses on steadying his breathing, tries his best to ignore how every vein in his body feels as if it’s on fire. He doesn’t trust himself to speak without moaning, so he drops a kiss to her cheek before he checks on her.

Underneath him, she swallows thickly, her fingers digging into his shoulder, and waits for the slight pain to subside. It does. When she finally speaks, her voice comes out breathy and pitched. “I’m OK – it just – one sec.”

And then she moves. It’s just small movement, just a slight shift of her hips, but it’s _perfect_ , and suddenly he finds himself squeezing her tighter and kissing her furiously as he pulls away then back in. She gasps and cries out. Then again. And again.

His fingers thread into hers and pin her into the bed, and then there’s nothing but sweat and slick movements and gasps as he pounds into her, as he delights in the feeling of her heated bare skin against his and the numbing, painful buildup of pleasure. She locks her legs around him and matches his strokes beneath him, clutches at him desperately and leaves scratches down his back as he leaves harsh bites down her neck.

Suddenly, she gasps out his name. Not his pet name, his actual name. _Vikram_. He doesn't know why it is, but the sound of his name dropped plaintively from her lips, again and again, and the thought that she’s finally _his_, drives his passion to new heights.

He seizes her lips with his own and drinks her in, all while pushing into her so violently she can feel the headboard shake, before he eases his hips into a swirling motion that leaves them moaning into each others’ mouths.

It’s all far too much to take in: the feeling of her bare legs under his, the heat of her skin, the way she meets him halfway and kisses him just as hard as he kisses her. He struggles to pull her closer as he feels her body tightening, feels the tension concentrating inside her as he pounds into her, again and again. He can feel all of her, every gasp and movement and response, and it’s mindblowingly incredible. They’re coming to the end and he knows it, and just like that, she clutches him fiercely and squeezes her eyes shut. And with her own wild brand of enthusiasm she pushes them both over the edge so that they topple over it, so that the stars burst behind their eyelids and then there’s nothing left for either of them to give.

Then there’s nothing but racing heartbeats and cooling skin, soft pillows and murmured declarations of love as they tangle into the sheets and fall into the most restful sleep of their lives.

And in the morning, when the first rays of sunshine peek through the room’s curtains, they’ll wake in each other’s arms. Her morning bedhead will probably look really hot, and she’ll tease him endlessly for liking it. He’ll take her teasing because he secretly enjoys it, and then he’ll press a soft kiss to the crown of her head and they’ll just snuggle in quiet contentment for a bit. Because they know that however much of a exasperatingly misfit pair they might be, as long as they’re at each other’s sides …

they’re exactly where they belong.


End file.
